#The Lighthouse: A Dark and Stormy Tale

[robsource]

Robert Pattinson behind the scenes ─ The Lighthouse (2019)

#The Lighthouse #The Lighthouse: A Dark and Stormy Tale #ours #gifs #by michi #rpattinsonedit #robertpattinsonedit #filmedit #usergina #userjimholden #userbrittany #behind the scenes

[imaginaryshorts]

The Legend of the Crimson Flame

Once upon a time, in the majestic kingdom of Eldoria, there was a rare beast adorned with scarlet scales as shiny as rubies gleaming under the sunlight. The creature was a profound creature of myth and fascination—a red dragon with brilliant blue eyes known as Ignis, the Crimson Flame.

Ignis was not an ordinary dragon. His scales, painted in an audacious blood-red hue, shimmered in the Eldorian sun, reflecting a passionate blaze, unlike the traditional draconic palette of green and gold. But the most striking of Ignis's features were his eyes. They were large orbs of sapphire that radiated piercing light, as calm and deep as the vast northern seas. Contrasting the fiery aura projected by his robust figure, his eyes had the calmness and wisdom of the old world.

Ignis remained concealed during the day, hiding in caves etched into the Eldoria's mountains. But as dusk fell and the blanket of twilight descended upon the land, Ignis used to unfurl his wings, each one as wide as a ship's sail, and embarked on his majestic evening flights.

Despite his awe-inspiring appearance, Ignis was not a monster. He had a benevolent nature that contradicted the popular fearsome depictions of dragons. He safeguarded Eldoria from lethal beasts, menacing trolls, and voracious sea serpents. People used to comprehend Ignis's flights as the harbinger of safety, his blazing form against the night sky, a beacon of hope.

However, Ignis's most extraordinary feature was not his physical prowess or astounding beauty but his magical power. The blue-eyed Beast of Bountiful Blaze had a high sense of perception and could understand and converse in the language of humans.

One fateful stormy night, calamity struck. A mighty sea monster, Tidemaw, arose from the dark depths of the Northern Ocean and launched an assault on Eldoria. The city walls, fashioned from rocks and iron, proved futile against Tidemaw's wrath. Desperate and fearful, the Eldorian King, King Eadric, braced to seek Ignis's help.

With a heart bubbling with desperation and hope, King Eadric climbed the perilous mountain path and spoke to Ignis in a language no other human could. The king pleaded, telling tales of mass destruction and looming dread. Ignis, understanding the grim situation, granted the king's request. He flew towards the city, his blue eyes glowing with determination beneath the stormy night.

The battle was fierce and devastating. Tidemaw's tremendous power almost matched Ignis's intense flames. But with every breath, Ignis roared out infernos that raged hotter and brighter, his blue eyes shining like a lighthouse amidst the stormy chaos. Ultimately, Tidemaw was forced into retreat, screeching in torment, fleeing back into the obscure waters from whence it came.

Ignis returned to King Eadric, weary from his battle. The king, however, was not the only one waiting. The people of Eldoria had come forth to cheer for their savior. They hailed Ignis as their protector, and that night, the kingdom celebrated the victory of their "Crimson Flame."

Thus, Ignis, the red dragon with blue eyes, took his place not just in the skies of Eldora but also in the hearts of its people as a protector, savior, and, most importantly, a legend. Forever embedded in the annals of Eldorian history, the saga of the Crimson Flame will echo for generations to come.

#digital art #digital artist #short stories #fantasy #creative writing #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #art

[rabbitcruiser]

National Lighthouse Day

Often used as metaphors, lighthouses are the beautiful towers that  keep ships safe in the night. Visit one to appreciate their majesty and  mystery.

A light that shines in the darkness to protect and alert. Sounds like  something one would say about that friend or mentor whom helps us in  the hardest of times, but alas, this is not that reference. This is a  reference to the silent, but bright, guardians of our coastlines and  ships, the majestic lighthouse.

Learn about National Lighthouse Day

Lighthouses represent a piece of history. They have comforted  travelers for centuries, guiding them and keeping them safe. They also  add to some of the most scenic and majestic views. If you have ever  visited a lighthouse before, you will know the stability and serenity  they bring to the area. While time has progressed and technology has  changed, lighthouses remind us of some of the difficult voyages people  went on in the past. They provided hope to those looking for land while  tackling the dark nights and stormy seas. So, it is only right that we  celebrate them on National Lighthouse Day.

Did you know that lighthouses provided a beacon of light even before  we had electricity? It is remarkable to think that, isn’t it?  Originally, fires or burning coal were used to create the source of  light in a lighthouse. Of course, this changed as time went on.  Lighthouses then made the switch to oil-burning lamps, after which  electric lamps were used in 1875. Nevertheless, it is crazy to think  that these structures were guiding ships home with light before we could  power our own homes!

There are many reasons why National Lighthouse Day should be  celebrated in our opinion. However, one thing that is really admirable  is that lighthouses have stood the test of time. They have had to  weather a lot of storms; both the literal type and the metaphorical.  From high winds to extreme weather conditions; lighthouses are located  in areas on cliffs and coasts that mean they need to take the very worst  of the weather. Not only this but despite the fact that technology has  progressed and the need for a lighthouse is not the same as it once was,  these structures still stand tall, often acting as the focal point for  coastal villages and areas.

Plus, you simply cannot deny the beauty of a lighthouse, can you?  They have a cylindrical shape and an eye-catching red and white striped  design in most cases, although some are painted all white. They look  beautiful amongst the surrounding bay or coastal area, adding plenty of  character and tales of the past to the location. When you consider this,  it is of no surprise that so many people decide to have their  photograph taken in front of a lighthouse. It’s a postcard-perfect  environment. Why not spend some time looking at some of the most  picturesque lighthouses online? You will be amazed by the beauty you  witness!

History of National Lighthouse Day

The lighthouse has been a staple of culture in the world since we  built boats to sail the seas. Protection from fog, reefs, rocks and  other hazards of the coastline have been signaled by these monoliths of  light, even before the advent of electricity. Surprisingly, large fires  were lit in the top of the early lighthouses, so ship captains knew not  to sail to close to them in order to avoid dangers to their ships.

Some even used early forms of light refraction to make the light  spread farther out to see – mirrors were used in some cases, but in  many, it was actually metal polished to a shine that was used as mirrors  were not as easily come by as they are today.

Electricity and the light bulb paved the way for current lighthouses –  the rotating beam of light that is done with some creative positioning  of mirrors, glass and a motor to spin a curved mirror in a circle around  the light bulb. This effect channels the light outwards in a beam,  rotating around and around to catch the eye, and help the light pierce  the fog.

How to celebrate National Lighthouse Day

Go and see a lighthouse or two. Visit and see about understanding  what the lighthouse specifically protected against – was it just fog and  to alert captains of land close by, or are there rocks in shallow  water, reefs of danger just beneath the soft waves, or maybe a more  disastrous effect, like whirlpools or cliff edges instead of a port?

Sometimes a lighthouse existed both as a ship warning and a guard  post from when local militia and army forces were stationed to defend  against coastal attackers. Or if your not near any lighthouses, share  pictures you find enjoyable of lighthouses to those nearby or over  social media.

Enlighten them on what a lighthouse does if they want to know. Or  maybe build a miniature lighthouse all your own, setting it up high in a  room so the light spirals around in the same effect. This little  adventure into modeling can spark conversations for years to come, and  is something that may just bring you one step closer to being the master  of a lighthouse yourself some day.

Another way that you can celebrate National Lighthouse Day is by  doing your bit to preserve a lighthouse. There are a number of  organizations that have been set up around the world for the purpose of  protecting and preserving these historical structures. Plus, if you do  decide to visit a lighthouse on this day, you will probably be able to  make a small donation that will contribute to keeping the lighthouse in  operation. A small donation can go a very long way when it comes to the  future of historic treasures like this.

Source

#Lighthouse of Peñiscola #Faro de Cudillero #Santa Ana Castle Lighthouse #Castro Urdiales #Tall John #Spain #Sweden #Smygehuk Lighthouse #USA #Point Prim Lighthouse #Cape Spear #Atlantic Ocean #Pacific Ocean #travel #Point Cabrillo Light Station State Historic Park #Pigeon Point Light Station #Point Arena Lighthouse #National Lighthouse Day #California #vacation #architecture #seascape #cityscape #landscape #original photography #NationalLighthouseDay #8 August

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

Dominants, Guiding Lights In The Lifestyle

Ahoy and gather 'round, and let me spin ye a tale about the curious similarities between dominants and lighthouses in the exhilarating world of D/S relationships. Just as a lighthouse serves as a guiding light in the vast ocean, dominants play a vital role in navigating the intricate waters of the D/S lifestyle. Let’s sail away to explore the profound parallels between dominants and lighthouses, shedding light on their crucial responsibilities and the impact they have on their submissives.

Picture this, me mateys: a stormy night at sea, with turbulent waves crashing against the ship. Amidst the chaos,

a lighthouse stands tall, emitting a steady beam of light that cuts through the darkness. In a D/S relationship, dominants assume a similar role by providing a beacon of guidance, stability, and protection. Like the lighthouse, they shine light upon the path, ensuring the submissive partner can navigate the often tumultuous waters with trust and confidence.

Just as lighthouses mark the entrance to a safe harbor, dominants establish a secure and nurturing environment for their submissives. They are responsible for setting boundaries, rules, and protocols that establish a framework for trust and safety. Much like the light that warns ships of treacherous reefs, dominants protect their submissives from harm, both physical and emotional, by carefully steering the course of the relationship.

Lighthouses, though unwavering, cannot guide ships without the mariners' consent to follow their light. Similarly, dominants recognize the significance of enthusiastic and ongoing consent in the D/S lifestyle. They actively engage in open communication with their submissives, ensuring that their desires, limits, and boundaries are respected. By fostering a safe space for dialogue, dominants establish a foundation of trust, understanding, and mutual consent, allowing the relationship to flourish.

Just as a lighthouse stands as a symbol of discipline and order, dominants uphold a vital role in maintaining discipline within the D/S dynamic. While discipline can take various forms, it often involves the establishment of guidelines and the implementation of consequences for any breaches. By nurturing discipline, dominants guide their submissives toward personal growth, self-improvement, and a stronger connection within the relationship.

Lighthouses not only protect sailors from danger but also encourage them to explore uncharted waters. Similarly, dominants provide a safe platform for their submissives to grow, explore their desires, and push their boundaries within predefined limits. With the dominant's guidance, submissives can embark on a transformative journey of self-discovery and personal development, unlocking their true potential.

A lighthouse stands tall against the ever-changing tides, maintaining its steadfast position as a symbol of stability. Similarly, dominants bring equilibrium and stability to the D/S relationship. They provide consistent support, emotional grounding, and unwavering strength, ensuring that both partners feel secure in their roles. By upholding this balance, dominants foster an environment that allows submissives to fully surrender, trust, and embrace their submissive nature.

Arr, me hearties, as we sail through the seas of the D/S lifestyle, let us not forget the crucial role that submissives play in maintaining their dominant lighthouse. Just as a lighthouse requires a diligent caretaker to ensure its light keeps shining, submissives must actively contribute to the relationship's stability and growth. It be their responsibility to communicate their needs, desires, and concerns openly, allowing their dominant to navigate their journey with clarity. By embracing their role as the beacon's keeper, submissives ensure that the light of trust, respect, and submission continues to guide them on their thrilling voyage.

As the wind blows and the waves crash, the lighthouse stands resolute, a guiding light amidst the chaos. Similarly, dominants embody the same steadfastness and unwavering presence in the D/S lifestyle. Just as the lighthouse ensures the safety and navigation of ships at sea, dominants play a crucial role in providing guidance, protection, and stability to their submissive partners. Their ability to illuminate the path, create a safe harbor, navigate consent, uphold discipline, nurture growth, and sustain balance makes them the true lighthouses in the vast ocean of the D/S lifestyle. So, me hearties, let us acknowledge the significance of these remarkable individuals and the profound impact they have on the D/S journey.

As with all of my thoughts, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2023

#d/s relationship #d/s community #d/s blog #d/s real life #dom/sub #bdsmblog #bd/sm community #bd/sm lifestyle #ds community #chattingwiththelightkeeper #bdsmlife #bdsmrelationship #d/s lifestyle #d/s dynamic #bd/sm relationship #my thoughts #my writing

[writingratthings]

The Lighthouse Firefly: Guiding Light in the Darkness

In a secluded cove, where jagged cliffs met the restless sea and the night sky sparkled with a thousand stars, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Perched atop the highest cliff, its beacon cast a steady glow across the turbulent waters, guiding weary sailors safely to shore.

But the true guardian of the lighthouse was not a lantern or a keeper but a tiny firefly named Luna. Luna had taken up residence in the lighthouse many years ago, drawn to its warmth and the sense of purpose it exuded. Though small in size, Luna possessed a radiant light that shone with unwavering brightness, even on the darkest of nights.

As the lighthouse's guardian, Luna took her duty seriously. Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars emerged from their slumber, Luna would emerge from her hiding spot and flit around the lighthouse, casting her ethereal glow across the landscape.

Sailors from far and wide marveled at the sight of the lighthouse firefly, whose light seemed to pierce through the fog and illuminate the treacherous rocks that lurked beneath the surface of the sea. They whispered tales of a mystical guardian who watched over the cove and ensured safe passage for all who sought refuge in its embrace.

But Luna's greatest test came one stormy night when a fierce tempest descended upon the cove, unleashing its fury upon the land and sea. The wind howled like a banshee, and the waves crashed against the cliffs with relentless force. The lighthouse trembled under the onslaught, and Luna's light flickered in the face of the storm.

Yet, despite the chaos and the darkness that threatened to engulf them, Luna refused to yield. With every ounce of her strength, she summoned forth her light, casting it out into the tempest with unyielding determination. Her tiny form trembled against the gale, but her spirit remained unbroken.

And then, like a miracle, the storm began to subside. The wind softened its howl, and the waves receded back into the depths of the sea. As dawn broke on the horizon, the sailors emerged from their shelters, their ships battered but intact, thanks to the guiding light of the lighthouse firefly.

From that day forth, Luna was hailed as a hero throughout the cove. Sailors spoke of her bravery and resilience, and tales of her miraculous light spread far and wide. But to Luna, the greatest reward was knowing that she had fulfilled her duty as the guardian of the lighthouse, guiding those in need safely through the darkness and back to the light.

And so, in the secluded cove where the lighthouse stood tall against the elements, Luna, the lighthouse firefly, continued to cast her radiant glow across the waters, a beacon of hope and salvation for all who sailed the seas.

#Fable #Firefly #Lighthouse #Guidance #Bravery #Resilience #Light #Heroism #Hope

[taramariewords]

"Ephemeral Echoes"

High atop the cliffs overlooking the tumultuous sea, the lighthouse of Dunhaven stood as a solitary sentinel against the encroaching darkness. Legend spoke of a ghostly keeper who, for centuries, continued his eternal duty, ensuring the safety of ships lost in the tempestuous waves.

One stormy night, as the wind howled and the rain lashed against the ancient stones, Emily, a marine biologist fascinated by local folklore, sought refuge in the lighthouse. Seeking shelter from the tempest, she discovered the flickering lantern casting shadows that seemed to dance with ethereal grace.

As she ascended the spiraling staircase, Emily sensed a spectral presence, and soon, she found herself face-to-face with the ghostly figure of Captain Theodore Blackwood, the lighthouse keeper from ages past. His eyes, mirroring the tempest outside, held both sorrow and a yearning for release.

The ghostly captain revealed his tale of a love lost at sea, a promise unfulfilled, and an undying loyalty to his post. The lighthouse, once a beacon of hope, had become a purgatory where his spectral form endlessly scanned the horizon for the return of his beloved.

Empathy stirred within Emily, and she made it her mission to help Captain Blackwood find peace. Guided by a mysterious map revealed in the flickering lantern light, they journeyed to the cliffs where he once stood with his beloved, unraveling the remnants of a bygone era.

As they reached the cliff's edge, a spectral ship emerged from the mist, carrying Captain Blackwood's lost love. A reunion, long overdue, transpired as the ghostly couple shared a final, tender embrace. The sea, once turbulent, calmed to a gentle murmur, and the lighthouse lantern burned steady for the first time in centuries.

With gratitude in his eyes, Captain Blackwood and his beloved dissipated into the night, leaving behind a lighthouse that now shone not only as a guide for lost ships but also as a monument to love that transcended the boundaries of life and death. Emily, touched by the ephemeral echoes of a timeless romance, descended the staircase, leaving the lighthouse with a newfound understanding of the beauty that lingered in the space between worlds.

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

My Light

Masterlists: [All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer]  [Red Carpet Diaries]

Characters: Thomas Hunt, Alex Book: Red Carpet Diaries [Hunt x F!OC] Word Count:  ~850 Rating: General Prompt: lighthouse: @choicesaugustchallenge

Synopsis: Alex decides Thomas would make a great lighthouse keeper, but he sees a different story. Alex pictures what a different life for them could be. *Fluff with a bit of angst, meet-cute*

Alex flopped onto the couch in Thomas's office. "Have you ever considered being a lighthouse keeper?" She questioned curiously, resting her chin on the back of her hand.

Thomas peered over the top of the script he was reading. He inhaled thoughtfully for a moment, "No." Then, he returned to the task in front of him.

"Oh, come on!" Alex pressed. "It's a perfect job, especially for you."

He glanced at her once more, which only encouraged her to continue.

"The seclusion and solitude, the quiet, the natural beauty, the lack of technology." She smiled at him. "Oh! And you'd just look so amazing and handsome in a cable knit sweater all the time."

Thomas quirked his brow, watching as she rolled over, looking up at the ceiling, carrying on with her list.

"You'd get daily exercise going up and down the stairs. You could take Bogart with you. You'd need a companion, obviously, and we all know you adore him—Just think about all the cinematic views and scenes to inspire you. And the mood! Think about the melancholia—the drama—a romance among the waves." She sighed dreamily, shifting her attention back to him. "It would suit you well."

"Clearly, you've given this some thought," Thomas stated, putting down the script. "Any particular reason?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Maybe in a different life."

"Is that so?" He got up from his desk and moved beside her on the couch.

She nodded, readjusting to rest her head on his lap. "It could work."

"Perhaps." Thomas stroked her hair tenderly. "However, I believe it is you who dreamed of different careers."

Alex reached up, her fingers caressing the coarse hair on his jaw. Her body warmed being with him. "This is true. Hmm—lighthouse keeper Alex." Her lips pressed together as she reconsidered her narrative. "I took over as lighthouse keeper from my grandfather, who had been the keeper for more than fifty years."

"Naturally."

"The scent of the sea, the spray of the crashing waves, and the beautiful horizon brought me much joy, but there was a longing, a sorrow for something unknown." She took his hand, playing with his fingers as she considered what life may have been. "A thrill of exhilaration came over me when I heard a big Hollywood movie was filming nearby. Unfortunately, I couldn't join in on the excitement buzzing through the small seaside town because a sudden storm was brewing off the coast—the worst in decades. My journey toward something more would need to wait as I tended to the light. At the same time, this brilliant but technologically opposed luddite Hollywood director took a boat out, not checking the weather app to see the storm warning. He was too focused on his vision and scouting the perfect location. Before long, the sky darkened around him, and the waters rose. The turbulent ocean raged, and darkness threatened to swallow him. The sea cares not who a person is, or whether they are deemed important or not; it claims lives to remind those who survive of its power and fury. It must be respected and revered."

He stroked her cheek soothingly. Her mind was a beautiful thing. He hadn't been one to trust in fate or destiny, but she made him question that. No matter how inconceivable her stories might be, they still made him believe that no matter what happened, where they were, or what lives they led, they would always find each other because they were meant to be.

Her eyes glistened as she continued weaving her tale. "The director was lost at sea for more than a day, the newspapers already foretelling a tragic end. Lighthouse keeper Alex kept the beacon of light shining over the stormy waters, holding out hope. Late into the next night, as the moon peeked out from the clouds illuminating the cliffs surrounding the lighthouse, she noticed something shimmering on the stones. She hurried down from her post, carefully descending the rocky slope toward the source of the reflection—a first aid, safety blanket. She pulled back the reflective sheet to find the missing man, beaten and battered by the storm but alive. Somehow he had made it to her shore."

"Without his boat?" Thomas questioned, engaged in her narrative.

"Yes. The boat had been damaged from the waves earlier. He managed to grab the first aid kit and a life preserver before it went down. He floated on a piece of wreckage for a day, using the safety blanket to shield himself from the bitter gusts. He was about to give up hope and succumb to the sea when he saw her light. He wasn't sure if it was real or an illusion, but he swam, fighting to get to it, hoping it wasn't the end of the line. She saved him, and although once he recuperated, he returned to his life, thoughts of her remained. He returned to her time and time again, unable to stay away, until they realized they belonged together. Their love was a bond that no storm or force could break."

The skin around his eyes crinkled, the corner of his mouth curled up in adoration. He gently wiped the tears slipping from her eyes. "You'll always be my light—" His lips brushed softly over hers. "—my hope, my love, guiding me home."

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this!

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #thomas hunt x oc #thomas orson hunt #hunt x mc #red carpet diaries #thomas hunt rcd #alex hunt #alex spencer #halex #thomas x alex #fan fiction #playchoices #choices #professor hunt

[hiddendreamer67]

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant mermaid #giant mers #giant siren #OCs #Caspian #Beckett #giant!siren!caspian #human!beckett

[therealjammy]

Children’s Stories

AN: This odd little thing came to me while I was trying to think of all the words that rhymed with “dead,” and then I decided to write something based on that. This is the result. Thank you for reading xx

-----

It was a cold, rainy October evening—on a Thursday—and it had been a while since the children had declared story time. The au pair found herself thinking this after Flora and Miles had slinked upstairs after their dinner, when the kitchen turned quieter with the adult company. The last story was about a lost kitten and a puppet, interrupted by a phone call. That had been… weeks ago, Dani thought, looking round at the populated table and the dessert of apple charlotte a la mode still being worked on, amazed that Owen was looking as cheerful as he was. There were moments, of course, when the grief seemed to hit him again, but like a tidal wave, eventually calmed and was soothed to shore. Then again, thought Dani, reaching around the gardener for the bottle of vintage port, that was what loss was like. A stormy sea. The waves large mountains, accompanied by dark skies and heavy rain, not a lighthouse to be seen, unless one kept sailing.

           There was no moon. The thick clouds obscured it. There were only the lights in the house and the ones outside it. Rain pattered the windows and the roofs, like little wet mice feet, sliding down the glass like tears. Every now and again, a soft rumble of thunder rolled from one part of the sky to the other. The lightning, thankfully, was not at all close.

           As if reading the au pair’s mind, there came a call from the top of the manor’s stairs that interrupted the remainder of dessert.

           “Attention valued patrons!” It was Flora. “Story time is about to begin!”

           The gardener groaned.

           Dani refilled her glass without being asked, knowing the gardener’s petulance for story time after the first mumbled “Let’s get this over with.”

           “You’re a star, Poppins,” she said to Dani.

           The au pair took her own glass of port with her, sitting between Owen and the gardener, leaning closer to the latter. She asked, quietly, “What do you think this one’s about?”

           “Well,” said the gardener, pointing with her wineglass, “they’re dressed in black. I can only guess.”

           The children had their backs turned to the audience, but the outfits were clear. Flora was in a black dress and stockings. Miles wore a suit. Their hair had been done neatly. It was only when they turned around that the audience saw their faces were painted with pale foundation and someone had shaded underneath their eyes to make them appear sunken.

           “Before we begin,” said Miles, projecting for all to hear, “we would like to say a word of thanks—”

           “—to our very own coroner,” said Flora, gesturing to the top of the stairs, where Hannah emerged, taking the steps slowly, smiling down at the three adults gathered in the foyer. When she reached the landing the children were perched on, she bowed deeply.

           “Thank you very much,” she said. “The pleasure is all mine, darlings.”

           The gardener’s sigh filled Dani’s ear. “Gonna be a long one.”

           “I should’ve brought you the bottle,” Dani said.

           “Too late to fetch it now.”

           Dani lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s always after.”

           The smile she shared with the gardener was one no one else could read.

           The stage to themselves, Flora and Miles struck their poses and began in unison: “The show has begun. We have an announcement to make to you.

           “We are dead.”

           “Shot in the head,” said Flora.

           “Died in bed,” said Miles.

           “Filled with dread.”

           “Couldn’t avoid the little red thread.”

           “We walk among you with arms spread.”

           “Forever doomed to think of business unshed,” said Miles.

           “And of life we cannot re-tread,” Flora said.

           In unison, “And still we cannot escape that little red thread.”

           They moved down the steps, Miles pausing in the middle while Flora continued until she was near the bottom. She went on, “I know you will have questions. Some we cannot answer. But this I know. The dead walk among you. Watch over you. You cannot see them, but they’re there. I can,” she raised her hand, pinkie out, “promise you.”

           Miles moved down to join her.

           They clasped their hands between them.

           Flora said, “And I can promise you—”

           “—really promise you—” said Miles.

           And in unison once again, “—dead does not mean gone.”

           They bowed to applause.

           “They’re brilliant at rhymes, these two,” Hannah said.

           “Was it you who did the makeup?” asked Owen.

           “They insisted.”

           “You did a wonderful job,” Dani told her. “I’ll get them to bed.”

           And so, while the rest of the audience was left to contemplate the rather dark tale, the au pair shuffled the children back upstairs to their bedrooms and helped wash the carefully applied makeup from their faces, singing praises all the while. She tucked them into their beds, said goodnight, and returned to the kitchen, where the dessert dishes were being piled into a soapy sink and the gardener was scraping the last of the apple charlotte from its pan.

           “Eating your feelings?” Dani joked to her.

           “That was even sadder than the last one,” the gardener said around a full mouth. “Can you blame me?”

           “There are different ways to process grief, dear,” Hannah reminded her. “But I am feeling rather cathartic after that, I must admit.”

           “I feel soothed, somehow,” Owen said. “Like after Flora told me I wasn’t dying.” He shook his head. “We have an old soul among us.”

           The night wore on, and as the hours grew later, the au pair found she was haunted by the words. They were as loud as bells when Owen and Hannah turned in for the night, when it was only her and the gardener sitting at the kitchen table in the low light.

           “It was a strange story, don’t you think?” she asked the gardener, who was, by now, rather tipsy from the port.

           “Death leaves impressions,” the gardener said.

           Dani nodded. “It does,” she said softly. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be reminded of that.”

           “Doesn’t it?”

           The look on the gardener’s face was melancholy. Such a different look, thought Dani, from her usual confidence and cocky swagger. She took the gardener’s hand, weaving their fingers together. “It does,” she agreed, “but things other than death will hurt us. We might as well do it anyway.”

           The gardener’s scoff wasn’t unkind. “And here I was thinkin’ I was the optimist of the two of us.”

           Thunder rolled in the silence. The rain had gotten heavier. Instead of mice feet it sounded like drums. The thought of the gardener strolling to her car parked in the gravel drive filled Dani with an emotion she couldn’t name. So she said, “Stay tonight. The weather’s godawful.”

           A smile touched the gardener’s lips. “Is this a ploy, Poppins?”

           “Is it working?”

           “More than you know.”

           The gardener’s lips tasted like apples and port.

           They retreated upstairs to the silence of Dani’s bedroom, eager to put the sad story out of mind, yet they found, in the midst of making their own storm, that they may have found their lighthouse. That there may, perhaps, be a little red thread tied between them. But here, in the sweet darkness and cloying warmth, there was no knowledge of just how far that string would pull.

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #fic stuff #it's really weird i'm sorry #i was going for a certain vibe

[barnesandco]

Seafarer

Loosely based on the following prompt by @drink-it-write-it​ :

“You said that I’d get to have you all weekend. Why can’t you just tell them you can’t go?”-“Because it’s my job, and it’s important.”-“And I’m not?”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, talk of groping.

A/N: I personally think this to be an embarrassing piece of work. Nothing more than an exercise in writing internal monologue, particularly of the sad variety. Sad both in terms of content, and quality. You have been warned.

“Sweetheart, open the door.” Bucky mutters, resting his forehead on the solid oak. He got back from his mission half an hour ago, and has spent that time standing at her doorstep, knocking, begging her to let him in. She’s pissed. Has every right to be, Bucky thinks to himself. He made her cry, after all. Left her crying.

“Go. Just go. Back to your apartment, the Compound, I don’t care. Why don’t you just go on another goddamn mission? You seem to love those.” She says, bitterness edging into her tone at his betrayal. Bucky swallows nervously, the lump in his throat becoming more prominent. He opens his mouth to answer, but his voice fails, leaving him gaping like a fish. He tries again.

“Darling, angel, doll-” 

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me any of that after abandoning me when I needed you. Go away.” Comes the watery reply, her voice breaking off at the end, like she’s holding back more tears. Of course she is. Any girl stuck with a heartless jerk like him is bound to cry. He knows he can’t leave her like this. Not again. 

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this.” 

“Well then, you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Baby, I-”

“I told you to quit it with the pet names. I won’t tell you again. Fuck off, Bucky.” She orders, voice trembling, heart in her throat and hand clenching the doorknob, as if she’s seconds away from opening it and saying it to his face. Not that she’s in any condition to - tears staining a tale of sorrow down her cheeks, bottom lip shaking and bitten red with the effort of containing her rage. 

“I don’t-”

“Please.” She pleads, desperate now. She isn’t sure if she can resist his attempts to speak with her for much longer. Bucky sighs, defeated by the tormented request. It’s no use pushing further. They’re both too emotionally wound up to resolve their conflict reasonably. Why does he have to be the voice of reason? Screw reason.

Still, he turns and leaves, thundering down the stairs. All twelve flights of them. The elevator’s in perfect working condition, but he hates the damn things. There’s no escape route. Unhealthy for his neurotic claustrophobia, catastrophic for emergencies. Disaster waiting to happen. 

Much like him and her, he supposes woefully. Their relationship has always been a stormy one. A hurricane. One that she is both the centre of, and a sanctuary from, which, now that he thinks about it, are one and the same thing. It’s calmest in the eye of the storm, right? Suddenly, Bucky isn’t so sure anymore. Doesn’t have to be, really, he’s a soldier, not a sailor. He wants to be a lover, though. A good one. That’s all he was trying to do, when shit hit the fan that day.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” She says, putting her bag down slowly, in awe of the sight before her. He’s standing in the tiny kitchen of her tiny apartment, next to a dinner-table set for two. A candle-lit dinner table. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Thought I’d surprise you.” He smiles sheepishly, coming closer to help her out of her coat. He bends down, unbuckles her shoes. She lets him, but his kindnesses don’t distract from the nightmarish nature of her time at work. 

“You've… succeeded.” Her lip wobbles dangerously, like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Bucky picks up on it immediately. It’s only been six months, but he knows her like he knows every fire exit in the building - it’s imprinted into his mind.

“What’s wrong? You look upset.” He asks, rubbing her arms gently. She shakes her head.

“It’ll ruin the mood. I shouldn’t talk about it right now. Let’s just enjoy dinner. Which looks delicious, by the way.” She gestures towards the table, where he’s laid out a lasagna she would’ve inhaled by now if she weren’t so upset.

“Baby, I can see something’s off. Come on, just tell me.” Bucky persists, hand at the small of her back guiding her to the sofa in the adjacent room instead. There are more candles here, lights turned down low, roses in as many vases as they own between the two of them. Looking at all the effort he’s put into tonight’s the drop that makes the bucket run over. The first tears, glimmering in the firelight, roll down her cheeks, as she begins talking.

He should have listened to her, he thinks as he steps out into the September night, bracing himself against the chill that’s already starting to settle in. His every misery begins and ends with this sentiment - he should’ve listened to her. Not pressed the matter. She would have talked when she was ready to. But he didn’t, and as a consequence, is now on the streets of Queens without any idea what to do with himself.

It’s late. Not too late, of course, Bucky would never want to disturb her while she’s sleeping. Would have waited till morning anyway if he wasn’t so anxious about the fragile state of their relationship after the fight they had before he left. But he didn’t. He came here, as soon as formalities like debriefing and cleaning himself up were settled at a break-neck speed. The sun was setting, then. It’s gone now, leaving only darkness punctuated by lampposts, shop signs, and the headlights of oncoming cars. So really, not much darkness at all. It’s only ten, still early, especially for New York, the city that never sleeps. He knows he won’t be able to sleep either, not tonight. The sound of her sobs from that night will haunt him. He recalls the three simple words that started the spectacle that’s driven him out at this hour.

“I got fired.” She says finally, wiping her eyes with the tissue he hands her. New tears immediately replace those she just erased, and from then onwards, it’s a hopeless cause. 

“What? Why?” He exclaims, shocked. More than shock, the vibrations of worry shake his system. For her, and on her behalf. She needs this job. Claims she does, anyhow. Bucky’s happy to provide her with anything she could ever ask for, he’s told her as much, but after much arguing, he has been made aware that that’s not how things work. At least not for her. She needs to stand on her own two feet, and if that means working herself to the bone, in addition to her post-graduate studies, then so be it.

“I slapped a patron. He came around the bar - it was a busy night - squeezed my ass and made some lewd comments. Nothing I haven’t heard before, been catcalled more than I can remember, but this was up close. And he touched me, which hasn’t happened before.” She explains, eyes downcast. His blood pressure skyrockets, and he sees red.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He snarls, immediately softening when her gaze turns to him, frightened. He thinks she’s afraid of him, although she would reassure him of the contrary, as she always does, if she was in any state of mind to do so. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” He tries, gentle this time. She buries her face in his sweater, sobs into his chest. He can feel her chest shaking with the effort of her heaving cries. Bucky wraps his arms around her, heart in his throat at the pain he can physically feel through their points of contact. “Hey, hey, easy there. Calm down, sugar.” This was the wrong thing to say. She straightens up and faces him. 

“Calm down? You know what the manager said?” She asks fiercely. Resumes her furious rant when he doesn’t say anything. “He lectured me about the whole the-customer-is-always-right spiel, and how we have to put up with this stuff - as if he’s ever been groped - and then yelled at me for scaring clients. Then he called me a- a dramatic bitch and said I shouldn’t bother to show up to work tomorrow.“ She counts off the three points on her fingers, voice cracking at the end, and closes her eyes and breathes. She turns back to him. "So you see, Bucky, I can’t calm down.”

He grimaces internally at the reminder of the hurt she had exhibited. All the hurt he ignored. No, he most definitely will not be sleeping tonight. There’s no point in going back to his place in Brooklyn, or the Compound, like she suggested. Everything comes back to her. It has to. She’s the moon, and he is the voyager dependent on her for the tides that guide him to shore. She is also the shore itself - a safe place, somewhere to call home and build a life. Not for long, if they can’t resolve this argument. Their latest one. At the moment, he has only the dirty, echoing subway station, and the trains within.

The platform emits the perennial scents of urine and alcohol, and the drunk stragglers responsible for both having taken up their regular spots in the provided area. Lighthouses that repel those who surround them instead of attract them. A strand of hair comes loose from behind Bucky’s ear as a train rushes out from the tunnel to his right; he tucks it in its place impatiently, ice-blue eyes scanning the platform. The brakes screech as the doors open and the soft, robotic voice inside announces the station to its passengers. He throws caution to the wind and enters the train. He doesn’t know where it’s going, but then, he doesn’t know where he’s going either. Doesn’t need to, as long as it takes him away from everything. He’s good at that. Running away. He ran away from Steve at the Triskelion and in Bucharest. He ran away from her when she needed him, because he thought she didn’t.

“What is it, Sam?” He answers the phone, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Closes his eyes as his teammate delivers the blow. The Avengers are needed,  somewhere in the world. Urgently so. “Do I have to? I’m in the middle of something.” He tells Sam, glancing over at her. She’s already figured it out. “Fine, fine. Yeah, I’m ready, give me a call when you get here.” Putting the phone down, he nervously runs his hands through his hair. “I- I have to go.” He says. 

“Where?” 

“Argentina. One week, tops. I’m sorry.” Bucky apologizes. It’s not enough to quell her concerns. Her pain. The torment he sees in her eyes. He wishes he could stay. Perhaps she’s better off without him, he considers.

“Stay. Please.” Clearly, she disagrees.

“I want to, doll, I really do. But they need me.”

“So do I.”

“Don’t do this to me.” He begs of her, because he can’t bear to see her like this. He’d give her the world if she asked, but at the moment, he can’t even give her the consolation she needs after a traumatic ordeal.

“Bucky, I don’t want to be the damsel in distress here, but I am in distress. I can’t cope with all the shit that went down today. That man- and ugh. Please, Bucky.” She’s pacing now, in front of the coffee table, and the tears are back in full force. Bucky averts his eyes.

“I wish I could, but Sam says-”

“Just tell him you can’t go. This one time.”

“I can’t do that. It’s my job, and it’s important.”

“And I’m not?”

Bucky thumps his head heavily against the window behind him. Closes his eyes against the onslaught of guilt and shame. He shouldn’t have left. Not then, with Sam, and not now, alone. He could have waited in the hallway. Instead he’s gotten on a train bound for nowhere, with nothing on his mind but the one person he can’t live without. Besides Steve, naturally. That punk is the bane of his existence, and Bucky wouldn’t want it any other way. They’re his people. The ones he needs to keep safe at all costs. Sam, too, occasionally, not that Bucky would ever tell him that. Evidently, he failed. He hurt her when he swore that he would be the one defending her from any such thing. 

Now here he is, in a train under the city he calls home, but feeling more homesick than he ever has. He never thought he’d fall in love this quickly. Six months is all it took for him to hand his heart over to a woman who seems hell bent on throwing it back in his face. He doesn’t blame her for rejecting his soul, broken and bruised as it is. He does blame himself for thinking that any balm that soothes those scars would last forever. Their courtship was too good to be true. He ponders this, and her tear-streaked face, as the train carries him deeper into a direction he does not care to go. He does not care to go anywhere she isn’t, however, the more he tries to return to her, the further he seems to drift away. Lost at sea, never to be found.

Taglist: @buckyreaderrecs @mermaidxatxheart @corneliabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #ayesha writes

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls ( Part 18)

There are many rumors surrounding Sea Candle Lighthouse; hauntings, sirens, and beasts that come on the gales to name a few. Azula has even heard that the ghosts have been there before the lighthouse was constructed. She has lived there her whole life and she hasn’t seen one phantom.

But she and Zuko made a game of it. They earned social points with peers by inviting them to their ‘creepy’ lighthouse during softly stormy nights. Nights when the sea howls and throws tempestuous fits.

It was on such a night that she’d truly gotten to know Chan and Ruon-Jian. Their parents had a date night at a rather upscale restaurant across town, a date night that was extended until the storm could pass. And then extended once more when the roads closed at the hands of flooding. The storm itself hadn’t been notably bad, so she and Zuko invited company to spend the night. Nevermind the scoldings that they would get later.

Within the hour ten people had turned up; Mai, TyLee, Sokka, Katara, Aang, Toph, Jet, Chan, Ruon, and Chan’s older sister. And a half an hour after that, several more people turned up, neither she nor Zuko knew them. Azula recognized three of them from her first hour class and Zuko said he’d seen the other two in the cafeteria. They were nice enough company but Azula wishes that Chan would have asked before prattling to others about a small get together.

Of course nearly everyone in their school had been fighting for a chance to spend the night inside the haunted lighthouse. She vividly recalls a rather solid month of her freshman year being interrogated over rumors that she’d been posesseed. She isn’t sure that they have quite let go of that of that one. She also vividly recalls complaining to Mai about it and having the girl shrug and say, “welcome to the club, Azula.”

So it was that five fortunate strangers assembled on the floor playing card and board games with them. Azula can’t remember their names. One of them might have been Jin, maybe Jing?

It was Mai who swapped the tiresome monopoly board for an ouija board. Azula cracked a smile. Mai was always essential to the atmosphere of the Sea Candle sleepovers. Azula and Zuko wrote the stories and Mai expertly narrated them under the flickering orange glow of candlelight. On this occasion the storm hadn’t gotten around to knocking out the power so she and Zuko had to do the honors.

The rain continued to pour down ceaselessly as Mai began the story. It was a story from before the lighthouse had been constructed, a tale of a man and his wife. “There was a man and his wife. The wife always wore a pearl pendant on a silver chain.” She had begun as a rumble of thunder rattled the lighthouse and died away. “The couple had made a habit of climbing up to the very highest point of the cliff and watching the ships pass by. They didn’t like to go in the daytime though because there were too many people and the husband was a shy man.”

Toph had yawned.

“One night they went walking. It was raining.”

“Of course it was storming, it’s always storming.” Toph muttered.

“Shut up Toph, I’m trying to listen!” Sokka shushed.

Unperturbed by their bickering, Mai had continued. “It wasn’t storming. It was a light misty rain. But there was fog and a lot of it. By the time they reached the top of the cliffs, the fog thickened until you could barely see in front of you. They stayed there a while even though there were no ships to watch, sometimes they just liked to enjoy a night alone on the cliffs. The sound of the rain on the water was nice enough.” She paused before continuing in her droning monotone. A monotone that was truly made for ghost stories, if Azula must say. “But they did see a ship after all. It was worn down and beaten like it just rose up from the bottom of a trench. Its sails didn’t move in the breeze. As the couple stared at at a voice called out, ‘mama, papa, I can’t find my way home.’ The couple looked at one another. It was the voice of their son. Their long lost son. ‘Mama, papa, I can’t see, it’s too dark’. And so, upon these cliffs, they built a light. One that can be seen for miles in hopes that their lost son would make his way home. That is the first ghost to haunt the Sea Candle lighthouse.”

The story was as cheesy as any, but it had their classmates talking for weeks after a night of Chan, Ruon, and her other unfamiliar classmates swearing up and down that they could hear the boy crying for his parents between rolls of thunder.

She, Zuzu, Mai, and TyLee spent the night snickering as Toph and Sokka fervently tried to debunk the claims of Chan and his posse. Katara and Jet had nothing to do with it at all, declaring that to have a sleepover you should make sleep one of the activities.

It was all in good fun.

Only once could Azula swear that she’d seen a spirit. Only once when she looked out the window to see her mother wandering home as she would on an ordinary day. Only once and never again.

.oOo.

The storm broke suddenly. Suddenly and much earlier than anticipated. Such seems to be a recurring theme in her life. She wishes that, for once, a storm would arrive behind schedule as opposed to ahead of it.

Azula rubs her eyes and hustles on deck to see Ozai and Zuko struggling with a sail that had broken loose. Lord, they couldn’t afford to lose a sail. But, she notes with building horror, they couldn’t afford to leave the wheel unattended. Her stomach pangs as adrenaline cuts through her sleep deprived mind. She makes a beeline for the wheel, leaping over a table that has been upturned and rolled by the perilous rocking of the ship.

She catches sight of Katara as she wraps her hands around the wheel’s spokes. Azula runs through the details in her sailing manuals. She truly hopes that she is remembering correctly as she points the bow of her ship towards the waves.

Ozai catches her eyes and his own seem to fill with relief in seeing that the wheel is now attended.  

“Zuko, I am going to open the storm sails!” He calls over the roaring wind and spraying waves. “I need you to keep control over the broken sail.”

She can’t hear Zuko’s reply.

The rain is beating brutally against her face, each drop giving her the feeling of being pelted with pebbles. She fights against a wheel that would rather do anything but keep the boat facing the waves. She finds herself constantly blowing streams of rainwater out of her mouth, but more comes to fill it almost immediately. And her hair, she wishes that she had chopped it off or at least tied it back before embarking. For it now whips about and obscures her vision until rainwater plasters it uncomfortably to her cheeks and forehead.

She finds herself breathless and surprised at just how much exertion it is taking just to hold the wheel steady, much less push it in the opposite direction when a particularly powerful wave knocks it out of place.

“Shit!” Jet hollars, finally emerging. He runs up to her and she waves him off.

“Zuzu…” she huffs. “Go help...Zuzu.” She nods her head in his direction. The flapping sail is fighting him with more vigor than the wheel is fighting her.

Jet nods and rushes to the sail. Azula’s heart seizes, she can’t see her father. The ship, as far as former pirate ships go, isn’t large. She should see him scaling the mast. Her attention is pulled to a sharp cry. The ship jolts and Katara is knocked off of her feet. She and Zuko both. With Zuko on the floor and sliding, the sail snaps and blows away completely. Jet lets go just on time to avoid going with it.

Azula has no time to be relieved over that. “Jet!” She hollers. As soon as he makes it to the wheel she passes it off to him with hurried instructions. This leaves her with no time to answer, “where are you going? What are you doing?”

She nearly slips down the stairs, and finds herself thankful for the balance that her years of surfing have afforded her. Her lungs burn the effort and her eyes sting with sea salt. She will be dreadfully sore if she makes it to the next morning.

Katara is hollering quite loudly as she fights to cling onto the rails. Zuko is more silent in his distress, exerting all energy into clinging to the rails next to her. They are both loosing grip quickly.

Blood beats behind her ears as her heartbeat picks up. It is the same thing. The same thing all over again. Her mother and Zuzu, she could only save one. She can see blood on the sea foam. She shakes her head, she is wasting time.

As she cautiously but speedily nears the both of them she can see it in Katara’s eyes, the absolute horror. The acknowledgment that she is a second priority. Azula feels sick. At least her mother had been out before the sea had claimed her, Katara was aware. She knew…

It might not matter anyhow, Zuzu is heavier than she and she finds that he is pulling her closer to the edge rather than she pulling him back from it. She is losing her footing and the grip that she has on a decorative post.

As her fingers slip, a strong arm wraps around her torso. It takes the wind out of her as it pushes into her stomach. But it keeps her from going over the edge, she and Zuko both. They are safely away from the rails but Katara is not. She springs forward before Ozai can keep her from it. She hears the man let out a string of curses.

Azula grabs Katara by the wrist just as she lets go of the railing. The sudden increase in gravity takes the both of them over the edge. She manages to grab the railing, her arm twisting painfully. She doesn’t let go of Katara and thanks every power that Katara is light enough to hold.

Thunder roars and the waves below surge up. Katara is frightened beyond screaming. She and Azula both. It seems like forever that they are suspended there. Azula looks up and in a flash of lightning she sees them. Those same phantom sails.

It must be the sail that Zuko has lost hold of. But she swears… Another flash. She swears that she can make out the haul of the Pearl Racer.

For a moment she forgets her predicament. She squints against the rain. But only for a moment before she is suddenly wrenched up. She gives a sharp cry as her shoulder pops, but she and Katara are laying on the boat instead of in the churning waters.

She sits up and scans the water. The sails are gone. They had never been there.

.oOo.

By noon, the storm has lessened into light rain and then a drizzle. Azula is still shaking. She hears Zuko speaking into the radio, they aren’t terribly far from a mass of land.

“Do you want me to pop it back into place or do you want to wait until we can get you to a hospital.”

She has been avoiding looking at her arm, she is nauseated by the way her skin bulges. “J-just do it.”

Ozai nods. He hands her a balled cloth. “Bite down on this.” She takes a deep breath and obliges. “Ready?” She is anything but, though she nods regardless. She squeezes her and and screams into the cloth as Ozai pops her shoulder back into place.

Her eyes sting with tears and her trembling doubles. She can see Katara cringing from afar. Ozai takes her into his arms and rubs her head, “that’s my girl. You always have been a fighter.”

She wishes that she didn’t have to.

“Get her some ice, boy!”

“Yes sir.” Jet half grumbles.

With him gone Ozai inquires, “why did you do it? You should have let me.”

She shakes her head. She is faster than he.  He wouldn’t have made it. And even if it weren’t so, she had to do it. “Because I couldn’t save mother…”

Ozai’s brows furrow. “You couldn’t have, you were…”

“I chose Zuzu.” She cuts him off. “I couldn’t save them both. I chose Zuzu.”

He nods, understanding. He squeezes her more tightly. “She would have wanted you to save him. She always was fussy and protective over him.” He forces a chuckle. “She would have scolded you if you hadn’t picked him.”

The tears finally come. Tears that are years overdue.

“Does he know?”

Azula shakes her head.

“It is probably better if he doesn’t.” Ozai pauses. “You’re a strong girl. I raised you well.” His soft voice hardens some, “but don’t you do that again, you understand me?”

She nods. She doesn’t think that he has ever held her so tightly.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Zuko #Ozai #Katara #Sokkla #Jetzula #Zutara #Sokka #Jet #Fanfiction

[pistiramisu]

Néztem ezt a Dark & Stormy Tale című BTS-filmet a Lighthouse-ról (ami remek film egyébként), és bazz, amikor a costume designer elkezdte mutogatni a filmhez készített ruhákat, egyből megindult a nyálelválasztás a számban, főleg amikor arra a hypercozynak kinéző pulcsira került a sor, amit a képen is visel a Dafoe-Pattinson páros. Eléggé hordanám, miközben lapátolom a sirályszart a világítótorony bejárata előtti lépcsőről.

#pulóver

[brokehorrorfan]

The Lighthouse will be released on Digital on December 20 via A24 and on Blu-ray and DVD on January 7 via Lionsgate. I this descent into madness to be a lot to digest, but the performances are transformative.

Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson star in the 2019 psychological horror film. Robert Eggers (The Witch) directs from a script he co-wrote with his brother, Max Eggers.

Special features are listed below.

Special features:

Audio commentary with writer/director Robert Eggers

The Lighthouse: A Dark & Stormy Tale featurette

Deleted scenes

From Robert Eggers comes this hypnotic and hallucinatory tale of two lighthouse keepers (Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson) on a remote and mysterious New England island in the 1890s. As an approaching storm threatens to sweep them from the rock and strange apparitions emerge from the fog, each man begins to suspect that the other has become dangerously unmoored.

#the lighthouse #willem dafoe #robert pattinson #robert eggers #a24 #the witch #the vvitch #max eggers #lionsgate #dvd #gift #black phillip #lighthouse #horror #arthouse

[rabbitcruiser]

National Lighthouse Day 

Often used as metaphors, lighthouses are the beautiful towers that keep ships safe in the night. Visit one to appreciate their majesty and mystery.

A light that shines in the darkness to protect and alert. Sounds like something one would say about that friend or mentor whom helps us in the hardest of times, but alas, this is not that reference. This is a reference to the silent, but bright, guardians of our coastlines and ships, the majestic lighthouse.

Learn about National Lighthouse Day

Lighthouses represent a piece of history. They have comforted travelers for centuries, guiding them and keeping them safe. They also add to some of the most scenic and majestic views. If you have ever visited a lighthouse before, you will know the stability and serenity they bring to the area. While time has progressed and technology has changed, lighthouses remind us of some of the difficult voyages people went on in the past. They provided hope to those looking for land while tackling the dark nights and stormy seas. So, it is only right that we celebrate them on National Lighthouse Day.

Did you know that lighthouses provided a beacon of light even before we had electricity? It is remarkable to think that, isn’t it? Originally, fires or burning coal were used to create the source of light in a lighthouse. Of course, this changed as time went on. Lighthouses then made the switch to oil-burning lamps, after which electric lamps were used in 1875. Nevertheless, it is crazy to think that these structures were guiding ships home with light before we could power our own homes!

There are many reasons why National Lighthouse Day should be celebrated in our opinion. However, one thing that is really admirable is that lighthouses have stood the test of time. They have had to weather a lot of storms; both the literal type and the metaphorical. From high winds to extreme weather conditions; lighthouses are located in areas on cliffs and coasts that mean they need to take the very worst of the weather. Not only this but despite the fact that technology has progressed and the need for a lighthouse is not the same as it once was, these structures still stand tall, often acting as the focal point for coastal villages and areas.

Plus, you simply cannot deny the beauty of a lighthouse, can you? They have a cylindrical shape and an eye-catching red and white striped design in most cases, although some are painted all white. They look beautiful amongst the surrounding bay or coastal area, adding plenty of character and tales of the past to the location. When you consider this, it is of no surprise that so many people decide to have their photograph taken in front of a lighthouse. It’s a postcard-perfect environment. Why not spend some time looking at some of the most picturesque lighthouses online? You will be amazed by the beauty you witness!

History of National Lighthouse Day

The lighthouse has been a staple of culture in the world since we built boats to sail the seas. Protection from fog, reefs, rocks and other hazards of the coastline have been signaled by these monoliths of light, even before the advent of electricity. Surprisingly, large fires were lit in the top of the early lighthouses, so ship captains knew not to sail to close to them in order to avoid dangers to their ships.

Some even used early forms of light refraction to make the light spread farther out to see – mirrors were used in some cases, but in many, it was actually metal polished to a shine that was used as mirrors were not as easily come by as they are today.

Electricity and the light bulb paved the way for current lighthouses – the rotating beam of light that is done with some creative positioning of mirrors, glass and a motor to spin a curved mirror in a circle around the light bulb. This effect channels the light outwards in a beam, rotating around and around to catch the eye, and help the light pierce the fog.

How to celebrate National Lighthouse Day

Go and see a lighthouse or two. Visit and see about understanding what the lighthouse specifically protected against – was it just fog and to alert captains of land close by, or are there rocks in shallow water, reefs of danger just beneath the soft waves, or maybe a more disastrous effect, like whirlpools or cliff edges instead of a port?

Sometimes a lighthouse existed both as a ship warning and a guard post from when local militia and army forces were stationed to defend against coastal attackers. Or if your not near any lighthouses, share pictures you find enjoyable of lighthouses to those nearby or over social media.

Enlighten them on what a lighthouse does if they want to know. Or maybe build a miniature lighthouse all your own, setting it up high in a room so the light spirals around in the same effect. This little adventure into modeling can spark conversations for years to come, and is something that may just bring you one step closer to being the master of a lighthouse yourself some day.

Another way that you can celebrate National Lighthouse Day is by doing your bit to preserve a lighthouse. There are a number of organizations that have been set up around the world for the purpose of protecting and preserving these historical structures. Plus, if you do decide to visit a lighthouse on this day, you will probably be able to make a small donation that will contribute to keeping the lighthouse in operation. A small donation can go a very long way when it comes to the future of historic treasures like this.

Source

#Lighthouse of Peñiscola #Castillo de Santa Ana Lighthouse #Castro-Urdiales #Spain #Cudillero #Albufeira #Portugal #Atlantic Ocean #Faro de Cudillero #National Lighthouse Day #coast #architecture #tourist attraction #landmark #Sweden #summer 2021 #2020 #7 August #Tall John #Långe Jan #USA #Canada #Smygehuk Lighthouse #Point Prim Lighthouse #Cape Spear #Point Cabrillo Light Station #Pacific Ocean

[akssy]

The Lighthouse - A Dark & Stormy Tale

#robert pattinson #Lighthouse

[peeterparkr]

clear|teaser|16

Chapter 16: The Lighthouse.

pairing: surfer!tom x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: angst and fluff (?)

summary: a piece of your heart. 

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full chapter coming wednesday 10pm CDT

a/n: hi i’m back with my shit sorry i didn’t post disney had my soul and i didn’t have time to write, please tell me what you think i’m desperate bc i haven’t written in a while and i’m kinda anxious 

-

It’s weird, sometimes we see a person and we are willing to have them break our hearts, we know that it’s impossible to get out of their claws without getting hurt. But sometimes, we are willing to sacrifice ourselves only to feel a story, only to treasure the good times, for a dream. A broken heart can be turned into a beautiful work of art. 

Y/N was aware of that, if she turned her feelings into art everything would suddenly become pretty. Even if it doesn’t last. Was she sacrificing herself for that? She was willing to. She wanted to have everything with Tom. He was a dream come true in every possible way. She was dragging him out to the beach with her hand not leaving his, as she lead the way to a place where both of them could be alone just to stare at each other. She had decided to give it a go, to give life a chance to let herself fall in love. 

She knew that this was probably going to go wrong, but as soon as they were standing on the sand, with their fingers intertwining and their heartbeats synchronized, she realized it didn’t matter. 

“Why did you wake me up so early—y/n?” 

“Shh!” She kissed his lips to shut him up. “I wanted you to see this!” 

She pointed at the sky, still full of stars, as if the universe had delicately and precisely each star for them, creating a whole story, a work of heart, of art. 

“The stars,” Tom looked at them. 

“Promise me this, every time we are apart you will look at them, we will be looking at them at the same time,” she said. 

“You’re assuming we will be apart,” Tom frowned. “But I will. I’ll think of you.”

She smiled as she sat down on the sand, then laid down. 

“Let’s count them,” she whispered as he sat beside her. “I feel like they’re shining for us.” 

“They are,” Tom smiled, pulling her close. 

“They’re the beginning, I like looking at them, they make me think about everything, about how we could heal, it’s silly but I still wish upon the stars.” 

There are times in which one needs to understand we don’t want to face situations but we have to. Life goes on challenging us with problems which we sometimes don’t have enough intelligence or maturity to solve. They’re sacrifices we have to take and debts to pay. We can’t live certainly, we don’t know if whatever is happening will lead us to what we want but we know it certainly leads us to where we need. 

She was never a firm believer of that, most of the time she believed that life wasn’t but her made decisions leading her to a broken destiny that was waiting for her. However, seeing her reflection on Tom’s eyes she realized that something had to lead her to him. Whatever it had been, she knew it, it was as if his arms needed to be around her, as if they were destined only to hold her and only her, as if his hands had been made just to fit hers, as if his dry lips were only meant to kiss hers. As if she was supposed to heal them.

They had danced and they had kissed and they had forgotten about everything. She had, at least. Now she just wanted to enjoy the time with him. She had let her bare skin warm his, and his soft lips to tattoo her body. But she hadn’t slept, she couldn’t, she had kept all night looking at him, memorizing him, intoxicating herself with his scent. 

He was like a road trip, like the ones she used to love, a new adventure with music in the background.Where there’d be stops for ice cream and stops to see the view, the beautiful view, with thunderstorms and cold nights. 

But she feared the road trip would come to an end without a destination. And she had been reading about it, and writing about it, and painting about it. It just was too much to handle for her. 

She had talked to Jared. Jared had explained many things that she didn’t understand about Tom. And they were a lot that she would never understand. 

But she had listened to him, and she realized why exactly she was there. Because Tom needed someone as blue as him. She needed someone as broken as her. Looking at the stars gave her hope, as if a shooting star would change everything. She had woken him up and taken him out and there they were now, holding hands, covered only by the blankets they had brought with each other and the excuse of a t-shirt she had. 

She listened, to the ocean echoing, to the crickets singing and to Tom’s breathing. Colourful, blue. Calm and stormy. 

And she was waiting for the blue to change because eventually, it would. She stopped looking at him and looked beyond the sea, the dark blue sky was still above them, the moon was falling into his eyelashes, and the wind was curling upon his hair.

“I’ve never been up this early,” Tom said. 

“I do, I like watching the sunrise, gives me hope.” 

“Hope.” 

“Yes, and you should, too, each sunrise is a beautiful memory, a beautiful painting the sky offers us for free,” she explained. 

“You’re mental, y/n,” he laughed. 

“That would explain why I’m in love with you,” she said. “Bonkers.” 

“Crazy.” 

FULL CHAPTER COMING WEDNESDAY 21ST 10PM CDT

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